Even from down the road, raucous guitar chords and harmonic vocals could be heard reverberating throughout the amphitheater. Wheels bouncing along the uneven ground and tipsy passersby stumbling behind me, I craned my neck for a glance at the faraway crowd.
No good.
Arriving thirty minutes late to a packed concert was never going to be a good idea, but as I put my car into park, fumbled for my keys and stepped out into the cool night air, I couldn’t seem to regret my decision.
My photographer, Sadie, met me at the ticket booth with her camera held aloft and a gleeful smile splitting her face. As we walked, she described our seats, the number of songs she could photograph for and, above all, her predictions of what flipturn would be like in person.
Having been fans for a little over a year, we both hoped to hear some of our favorites — for Sadie, their classic song, “August,” from their EP “Citrona,” and for me, “Glistening” or “Space Cowboy” — but since we’d never been to one of their concerts before, we really didn’t know what to expect.
As we weaved between the throngs of people jittering on steps, crowding occupied seats and toasting each other with vigor, I began to notice a common thread. It didn’t seem to matter whether the groups knew each other or not; everyone connected through their excitement for the show and love of the band. Rather than sticking with the people they came with, they introduced themselves, laughed together and slung arms over the shoulders of strangers like old friends.
Amazed, I watched people exclaim excitedly about anything from how long they’d known the band and how many concerts they’d attended, to the weather or the name of their first dog.
We reached our seats about 10 minutes before the show was set to start, shuffling down until we reached seats 207 and 208 — facing the direct middle of the stage where a lone microphone stood.
Sadie, leaving her bag in her seat, headed down to the pit — a place for photographers to get the clearest shots of the band — and left me to observe the crowd once again.
Anticipation grew with each second, the idle music lazing from the speakers easily drowned out by the mounting chatter. The seats around me filled up, though many occupants remained locked in conversation with people in the rows around them, some even cracking jokes with those passing in the far aisle.
Then, a scream.
From the blinding lights flashing over the left side of the stage, flipturn emerged, jumping and waving to the crowd. The exuberant faces of Dillon Basse, Tristan Duncan, Mitch Fountain, Madeline Jarman and Devon VonBalson were soon distorted by a brilliant flash of color and the first notes of their song.
Basse, the frontman and lead vocalist, Duncan, the lead guitarist and Jarman, the bassist, founded flipturn in 2015 as seniors in high school. Only after graduating college did the band’s drummer, VonBalson, and their synthesizer player and supporting guitarist, Fountain, join.
With their three EPs and two albums, flipturn’s discography is wrought with unique instrumental experimentations and catchy melodies, but the lyricism present in each of their songs brings a new level of clarity to their individual lives and talents. Where their EPs showcased a distinct take on indie rock music, their first studio album, “Shadowglow,” highlighted immersive songwriting skills.
However, it is with their most recent album that these distinct fields intertwined. Written and formulated in a North Carolina cabin, the band reconnected with each other away from the pressures of tour life and everyday monotony to create a special culmination of recent experiences and new ideas: Burnout Days.
Just seconds after their stage appearance, the opening song on that album echoed up and out of the amphitheater.
“Juno,” which came to fruition after Fountain’s keyboard fell to the ground and played an interesting set of sounds, began blasting at full force through the night air, stirring the crowd to their feet in an electric swaying motion. It wasn’t long before the band could barely be heard over the shouted lyrics from the fans around me.
The end of the song brought about a hush only broken by Basse welcoming everyone to the show and reminiscing about times past in Louisville. The band had visited the city only twice before, and with the contagious joy with which they were met for their third, it can only be a matter of time for their return.
As they plowed through the rest of the setlist, my eyes kept wandering from the multicolored light show on the stage to the people around me. Maybe it was the beauty with which the music was played, leaving no room to have any cares in the world, but with each song I noticed the crowd stitching closer and closer together — quicker to smile, less hesitant to sing at the top of their voice.
But there’s beautiful music everywhere; the world has access to millions and millions of songs, and yet they’re often enjoyed in solitude or from behind a screen. The difference I saw then is the community.
Gathered together, inspired by the passion poured into their music and performance, the crowd seemed to sing and feel as one, hanging on to each note played.
Soon the strums of the guitar, beats of the drum and chords of the keyboard came to an end, but it’s clear that even as the sound fades away, the bonds formed through the love of flipturn will live on.
